Widow's Gambit

A soul for a soul. 

The stone never said "kill." Never said "die." Only "lose that which you love." Emotion is as old as power cosmic and is power itself.

Title: The Widow's Gambit

The wind screamed across Vormir. Natasha and Clint stood at the edge, battered from their desperate fight.

Red Skull's voice cut through:

"You must lose that which you love. A soul for a soul."

They locked eyes. No words. Only the truth they both hated: only one could leave with the stone.

Clint stepped forward. "Me. Let it be me."

Natasha moved faster. She hooked the line around his wrist, yanked him back, and faced the drop.

Clint's scream tore the air as she ran—three steps, a leap, then silence.

He collapsed, hands shaking. Then the orange glow appeared in his palm. The Soul Stone.

Far below, on a hidden ledge she had spotted earlier, Natasha landed hard—bruised, alive.

She pressed against the rock, breathing shallow. She had never stopped loving Clint. Not for a heartbeat.

But love that deep demanded the ultimate price.

The stone never said "kill." Never said "die." Only "lose that which you love."

So she made the fall look final. Let Clint believe she was gone forever. Let the grief rip through him so completely that the stone registered the loss from his side—clean, irreversible, everlasting.

She severed the visible bond so he could live, return to his family, carry the mission forward.

Deep inside, the love remained untouched. That was the con: lose him forever on the outside, keep him forever in her heart.

Natasha wiped blood from her lip and looked toward the faint orange light deeper in the ravine—Red Skull waiting.

She whispered into the dark:

"I'm sorry, Clint. But this isn't goodbye. It's just... delayed."

Then she stepped into shadow.

The Black Widow wasn't dead.

She had simply paid the price the stone truly demanded.

—End—